


Love, The Junk Drawer

by ialpiriel



Series: Do You Remember (Sole Survivor Mal) [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Banter, Clothing Kink, Don't Try This At Home, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Remote-Controlled Sex Toys, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Unwitting Accomplice, abuse of power armor for personal pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curie and Glory team up to torment the sole survivor, through a mildly convoluted series of circumstances, including Tinker Tom’s unwitting usage as an accomplice, homemade vibrators, a suit of power armor, and a few populated locations including College Square and the Cambridge Police Station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, The Junk Drawer

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on the [fallout kink meme](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=17409479#t17409479)
> 
> also at one point a feral ghoul gets bodyslammed into a wall, so...be prepared for that

_HQ,_

_NEED NOISEMAKERS. BAG HAS JUNK TO MAKE THEM, DON’T HAVE TOOLS HERE OR WOULD MAKE THEM MYSELF. NEED RATTLE-Y NOISE._

_FIXER_

***

_GLORY,_

_YOU KNOW WHAT THESE ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE ;)_

_HEADSET IS FOR RADIO. ON LOW BAND. SYNCED TO MY POWER ARMOR + CURIE’S. CAN SWITCH WHO YOU TALK TO, OR TALK TO BOTH._

_FIXER_

***

“Hey, Tom,” Glory yells as she heaves her minigun up onto the desk. Tinker Tom startles awake off the sofa, is immediately on his feet; Desdemona yelps and jolts where she’s slumped in a chair; one of the other agents groans. “Fixer needs a noisemaker. Cached the materials up near Mercer, I’ve got them here.” Glory heaves the canvas bag of electronics parts onto the desk. “She wanted something remote controlled, would make a buzzing noise.” She upends the bag, and plastic pieces and circuitry go scattering across the desk. A test tube nearly rolls off, and Glory catches it with a scoop of her hand, sets it upside down on its flared mouth.

Tom digs his hands through the circuitry and plastic, teases out a remote control for some childrens toy. He twiddles the knobs, flips a couple switches, checks the battery case for a fusion cell. Glory rolls one across the desk when Tom starts patting his pockets, rolls another pair after it.

“Shit, who is Fixer with that she’s got all this sweet loot?” he asks, slots the first cell into place, flips the remote’s switch. The light at the top blinks on, 

“Minutemen, best we can tell,” Desdemona offers drowsily, sitting up in her chair and rubbing at her eyes. “She’s been running enough errands for them, according to Deacon.”

“Sheee-it,” Tom whispers, sucks a breath through his teeth as he looks over the junk. “She’s got a good supplier.”

“She mostly supplies herself,” Glory murmurs, rests her chin on her folded arms as she settles onto the desk. “At least, from watching her at Malden, that’s what I would say.”

Desdemona snorts, stands up out of her chair, and goes to lay on the couch. She tugs her scarf up to block out the perpetual candlelight. “Deacon says the same.”

Tom makes some agreeing noise, begins to arrange the junk across the desk.

“How big is she willing to let these noisemakers get?” he asks, taps his fingers in a skittery line across the desk, down its side, around front, and back onto the desktop. He rearranges a few pieces, slides fuses in line with a fusion cell, the fusion cell in line with the test tube, and tips a handful of indeterminate plastic bits out of a plastic bag around the whole setup. “That should be good for a rattling noise, as long as I can get the cell to hum.”

“She wants them small.” Glory nods at the test tube. “That’s a good size, and maybe one smaller.”

Tom shoves through the junk until he finds a baby rattle, snaps the top half of it off to make a dome.

“That size, yeah,” Glory agrees, looks through the other junk.

“Now you just give me some time to work, and I’ll have her noisemakers ready to go.” Tom rubs his hands together, flicks on his headlamp.

***

_FIXER,_

_WIRE COIL DOES SOMETHING TO FUSION CELL. VIBRATES GOOD. TRIED THEM OUT. FOUR SETTINGS. HAVE REMOTE WITH ME._

_LET’S MAKE IT A DATE._

_;P_

_\- GLORY_

***

“Is this sort of set up really necessary?” Mal murmurs, shifts from foot to foot. “Do you really have to be all the way over there?”

“Weren’t you the one who suggested it?” Glory laughs through the earpiece. “Compartmentalization, institute plant, ‘don’t you want to listen to me squirm while you get me off three miles away?’’”

“I should not be held accountable for what I said after that last get-together, and you know it.” Mal’s hand rises, and she’s about to stab the air before she remembers Glory is settled into some hidey-hole near Goodneighbor, and not in front of her.

Glory laughs again.

“A baseline has been established,” Curie pipes up. She’s in the full set of x-01, standing prim and sharp even in the bulky suit--her heels together, back straight, laser rifle in one hand and stopwatch in the other, a loop of cotton yarn holding it around her wrist. “The experiment is ready to begin.”

“Oh, god, now I’m an experiment.” Mal rubs at her helmet, wishes she had real hands and an exposed face. That would be better than being strapped into this suit of T-60, _waiting._

“This is certainly an experiment!” Curie replies, miffed, as Glory giggles at the other end of her radio. “We are studying many variables in this test, so please maintain your audio notes of what we are encountering and what is happening.”

“Right,” Mal grunts. “Uhhhh, equipping my baseball bat. The one with the sawblades. Also have my laser musket and a laser rifle, in case we meet something I don’t wanna get close to.”

“Noted,” Curie murmurs. “Please note the time and your stage of arousal.”

Glory laughs; Mal mutters something before finally choking out, “Eleven-oh-nine, anticipatory but not otherwise physically aroused, as far as I can tell.”

“As part of the experiment, Glory will not be broadcasting to you for the duration of the experiment, following this. Will you please give oral status reports, on the current location, Glory’s apparent actions, and your current state of arousal, as necessary?”

“Can do,” Mal agrees.

“And you remember the safeword,” Curie asks.

“‘Cryofreeze,’ yeah.”

“Then we are ready to begin!” Curie chimes, and Glory’s static disappears from the three-way radio.

“Today we’re clearing ghouls out of college square and then we’ll be heading south to clear the mutants from fraternal post one-fifteen.” Mal starts walking, swings her bat loose at her side, and Curie follows. “We are en route from the administration building.”

Mal goes silent then, heavy thud of her feet and the clank Curie behind her the only sounds.

They’re half a block down when the buzz starts up and she falters to a stop, stumbles over to a wall, an ungraceful clanking mess.

“Glory just, uh, just started the vibe that's _in_ me, on, uh, setting two, I, uh, think. Setting two of four.”

“Please state your level of arousal,” Curie reminds her, draws even.

“Uh, well, I’m definitely wet,” Mal replies, pushes off the wall. “But my legs still work, so I think we should probably keep moving.”

“Agreed,” Curie replies.

Mal takes point again, walks different now, sets her feet one in front of the other as she goes, swings her hips more, though she can’t swing them much in power armor.

“Approaching the square, I can see three ghouls already. Also looks like some poor sap tried to cross the square and didn’t quite---ngggg.” Mal stumbles to a stop again. “First, I’m _definitely_ , uh, aroused right now, maybe at a, uh, three of five, second, the intensity of the internal one has dropped to, uh, probably setting, mmmmm, one, but the one on my--” she pauses just a moment, breathes loud, “--clit picked up, third they’ve both shifted because I’m walking so it’s not as satisfying as it should be, and fourth, fuck you, Glory.” She stays standing for a moment, then, “Seriously, fuck you. They’re both off now.”

Through Curie’s radio, she can very faintly hear Glory’s laughter.

“Okay, three ghouls, one unfortunate settler, I’ve got my bat, let’s see if I can run like this.”

She picks up her pace to a trot, and the three ghouls turn at once, hobble a few steps, and then start their gargling scream. One sprints, and then the other two follow.

Mal bats the first one out of the air, saw blades catching between its ribs as she heaves it to the side. The second two hit as a pair during her follow-through, one wedging its arm through the handles on her armor, gnawing at the bottom of her breastplate, the other clambering up over its compatriot, twisting around Mal’s shoulders and trying to claw through her helmet.

She yells, and slings her bat aside. Her vision is half obscured by one ghoul’s twiggy hands, and its fingers and teeth are unnerving and unrelenting against the thick rubber of her undersuit, but she can see well enough to locate a wall.

She sprints, leans into it as she closes, and then pulls back and throws her arms out as she hits the wall chest first.

The one ghoul dissolves in a crunch and a shriek, and she backpedals furiously to grab the other one off her shoulders. She tosses it aside, hears the gurgling scream of more ghouls incoming.

“Two ghouls dead, more incoming,” she grunts, kicks the feral on the ground and sends it sprawling. Curie hits it a moment later with a blast from her laser rifle. Mal turns on one foot, settles her stance wide and reaches for her laser musket, and then gasps into her radio. “Both on, hhhh, three I think, fuck, I’m--” and then she sighs long and slow, a faint grind of teeth. “I’m gonna be able to do this, but Glory, when I get to see you again, you better watch out. Make _you_ kill ferals with two vibes going at once.”

Mal starts moving again, a steady if slightly bowlegged trot toward the other ghouls. Slings her laser rifle off her shoulder, takes loose aim, begins firing. The ghouls start charging.

She takes down three with the first shot, the beam splitter doing its job. A second shot takes down another.

“Four ghouls dispatched,” she grunts. “Which makes, uh, seven for this location. That’s about, uh, all that’s here usually.” She shifts in place, scans the surrounding area. “Internal vibe just shifted down to a, uh, one, maybe, and the clit one is off. The power armor is the main reason I’m still upright, by the way. My legs feel like jelly.”

“It is very impressive you are standing, then!” Curie agrees.

“Like I said, it’s mostly the power armor. Going to get The Problem Solver.” Mal turns and goes to grab her bat. Has to drop to one knee to pick it up, pauses, flattens one hand on the ground. “Fuck,” she squeaks. “That’s uh, might need some help getting up. Vibes switched again. Two on clit, off inside, and uh...shifted enough that I’m getting close.” Her voice rises more. “Curie can you come help me stand up?”

Curie tromps over, offers her hand to Mal. Mal takes it, carefully stands.

“On to the frat post, then?” Mal is breathing hard, tremor in her voice. “Ok, ok, stop, stop, turn it down, I’m not gonna--” she chokes out, and a moment later breathes a sigh. “Okay. okay, I’ll be fine for now. I’ll be alright. Okay. They're both off right now. We are en route to the fraternal post.”

Curie confirms, and they clank out of the square, headed south.

“Approaching the police station controlled by the Brotherhood. Looks like they’re patrolling their perimeter, but there’s no hostiles in the area. At least not that I can see.” she glances around, looks for ghouls or super mutants, raises one hand to hail the scribe up on their makeshift battlements. She raises her hand in a return greeting. “And not anymore than the Brotherhood would be if they had any idea what we are,” she mutters as an afterthought. 

She staggers. as they draw even with the front doors, whimpers.

“Both on, uh, four, I’m pretty, uh, sure,” she manages. “Fuck you Glory. Fuck you and your sense of timing, the scribes are staring at me now, every fucking one of them.” She grinds her teeth together, keeps walking as steadily as she can.

She rounds the first corner she finds that gets her out of sight of the police station, leans heavy against the wall. Her gauntlets skid over her breastplate, her thighs, no contact possible through the power armor.

“Fuck, fuck, if I could adjust some things I’d already have gotten off, fuck, fuck, this was a bad idea, I just--just wanna--” and it turns into gasping.

“Glory wishes to know how you feel about other people seeing you like this,” Curie relays. “Others, who are not me,” she clarifies.

“Fuck. Not sure I like it--” pauses again to groan, paw at herself ineffectually, “--but fuck, I, I--” and she pauses again to gasp. “Good fantasy. Good fake.” She breathes heavy through her radio, gasps, makes the tiniest movements with her hips and legs, tries to help herself along. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, so close.”

Curie shifts, turns her attention to something else. She pats herself down, looking for something.

“I forgot my ripper at the administration building. We will need to go back.”

“No we don’t,” Mal groans, but pushes off the wall, slumps her way out into the middle of the street. Her voice wavers, and her footsteps are uneven. “You’re just, huh, doing this because there are scribes, right there, watching, and you, huh, wanna watch me squirm.” More grinding of teeth, heavy breathing. “Let’s go. It’s close.” she takes two wobbly steps, grits out, “ _I’m_ close.”

“If you do not want to continue--” Curie begins.

“No, no, let's go. Just go. I’m coming, let’s go.” She snorts. “Hope you're laughing at that, Glory.”

“She is,” Curie confirms.

“Good.” Mal nods, takes another two steps, starts in on the third when she breathes out fast and harsh. “Fuck, fuck, coming, i’m coming, gotta, gotta--” she fumbles for the leg lock switch and gets one knee frozen before the other starts to give.

She fumbles for the other switch, gasp turning into whimpers.

“Fuck, fuck, too sensitive, fuck, keep going, please.”

The scribe yells something off the battlements, and Mal turns on her exterior speaker.

“I’m fine!” she yells, laughs high and jittery. “Just getting used to a new suit!” She waves, grins wide even if the scribe can’t see it.Turns off her external mic before continuing, “Fuck, Glory, please, please, turn it down. Turn it down, god, fuck, please, turn it down, you can sit on my face, shit, you can take pictures if you want, please, please--” and it turns into an incoherent babble, then, words and soft pleading switching to stern requests, statement of ‘stop’ instead of bargaining.

Glory finally relents when Mal grunts out “cryofreeze,” turns both vibes off.

Mal sighs, lets herself stand for a moment. 

“Should probably move,” Mal murmurs, doesn't move.

“Yes, we should,” Curie agrees, tromps around beside Mal to tug at her arm. Mal leans to unlock one knee, then the other, breathing loud and even through her microphone.

Glory crackles back to life through the radio.

“Fuck you,” Mal spits, nearly-venomless, before Glory can say anything. “Seriously.”

Glory laughs.

“I am going to find your hideyhole and I’m gonna make you sit on my face until your legs don't work anymore.”

“You can't _make me_ do anything,” Glory replies, smile in her voice. “But that sounds like a good plan. Leave the power armor somewhere else, and meet me at the hotel. Bring Curie.”

“Can do,” Mal agrees, nods. Looks to Curie, who nods too.

“We will be there this evening at the latest,” Curie decides. 

“I’ll have the roses and wine all laid out,” Glory Agrees. “Good luck walking home, Fixer.”

“You put that remote control down,” Mal replies, starts walking again. Curie trots to keep up. “You take out its fusion cell and you put it down and you leave it somewhere it won’t tempt you.”

Glory laughs, and plastic clatters somewhere in the background.

Mal breathes a sigh of relief, and picks up her pace.


End file.
